


goldrop

by syllogy



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Coping, F/M, Flowers, Gardens & Gardening, Grief/Mourning, Language of Flowers, Post-Calamity Ganon, as a treat, crossbreeding flowers, magda isn't real and doesn't exist in this canon, plant therapy, zelda indulges in a little research
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:39:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23983930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syllogy/pseuds/syllogy
Summary: There was nothing that spoke more than the simple act of giving a flower. “If they can’t convey their feelings in words, they let the flowers speak,” he recalled her telling him. “They are also a remembrance.” The words reverberated in his mind, and he knew from the vase on her desk that perhaps it was best to let the flowers grow.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	goldrop

**Author's Note:**

> [•](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0eF6quyJZBg) [•](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jg5L26JEO4A)

Lately, the air had been carrying the scent of flowers.

The mausoleum had been quite different more than a hundred years ago, with the former queen’s headstone polished daily, frequent offerings of fresh flowers accompanying her silently in the graveyard. It withstood a century in solitude – with the state of unrest the kingdom had been in, the mausoleum standing was a miracle in itself.

They stood in front of her headstone, crumbled from the Calamity and dusty from neglect. Beside it were polished stones they had thought to place as a marker for the former king. In the space in front of the two markers lay a bunch of white irises, which had been growing in abundance around the mausoleum.

Zelda could recall her mother’s burial as though it was a prayer she recited every day. She remembered clutching an iris and tossing it into the grave, breathing deeply in her efforts to stop her tears. The nights leading to it and those after, she had been asking herself what would happen in the future. Zelda thought only of the duty she had to carry and told herself she could cry only when it’s all over.

Had she not confided in him, he would never know the weight of the burden she carried over her heart. Her head was bowed low, eyes glassy with tears threatening to spill out, and she had tried to hide this appearance for as long as he could remember.

“It’s okay to cry,” he clutched her shoulders, tense from the façade she had to assume. Her hands, one moment tightly clasped over her heart, covered her face as she leaned into him.

In front of two flawed headstones and irises, with Link to hold her as she quivered in grief, she wept.

That night, they slept with the faint scent of irises lingering on their skin. The day’s events had stirred memories sleeping in the crevices of his mind. He dreamt of a flower he could see only in his dream, small and delicate. He had cradled it in his hands and set it adrift the river along with dozens of others.

Afterwards he had gone to a warm and cozy home, a vase with a singular flower – that flower – welcoming him to the dinner table. People distant yet familiar towered over him and it dawned on him how small he was as his legs dangled while he ate his meal with gusto.

The memories remained as he awoke.

* * *

Zelda loved spending time in her newly-built study near Link’s house. It was not as wide or as grand as the one she had in her castle, but they had both worked to have it constructed and she treasured it greatly. Each time Link entered, he would find that the cabinet had more journals and a different set of notes would be plastered to the wall.

She never ran out of topics she wanted to study, beaming at every finding she discovered. It was a joy to see her indulge in what she could not before, and he enjoyed helping her, whether it was gathering resources or trying a new blend of tea she’d made.

Along with the different empty jars she had used for developing salves, potions, and tea blends, he spotted a row of identical pots stacked in threes. Her references were always at her desk, and this time it had been a tome opened to a page detailing the different growth stages of a flower. Beside it was a vase with a single iris inside – she had decided to plant a few in the garden.

“I’d like to create new flowers,” Zelda gestured to the few illustrations on the wall. “It was a practice in Castle Town, but most species have died out.”

Castle Town. Its residents had dabbled enough in experimenting with flowers for them to create a variety of colors and fragrances that could not be achieved naturally. They were used in perfumes, baths, and meals. Every celebratory event was denoted by petals raining from the sky, and they were offered in times of mourning. Peddlers would drag their wheeled baskets filled with assortments of flowers along the streets to sell to passersby, and vendors would offer arrangements in baskets, bouquets, and pots.

There was nothing that spoke more than the simple act of giving a flower. “If they can’t convey their feelings in words, they let the flowers speak,” he recalled her telling him. “Not merely love, but other feelings, all kinds,” she paused to find the words, “such as gratitude, envy, longing, and regret.” He fondly looked back on the blooming flower tea she had given him when he first saved her a hundred years ago and wondered what message it carried for him.

“They are also a remembrance.” The words reverberated in his mind, and he knew from the vase on her desk that perhaps it was best to let the flowers grow.

* * *

Soon, two parent plants were fully grown in the study. It was the least they could start with, and Zelda had developed the habit of breaking her research down into smaller steps. She only knew of the process from theory and observation, deciding that resources might only be wasted if they started with too many at once.

With steady hands and guidance from the tome recovered from the remains of the royal library, they had finished their first attempt at cross-pollination and had planted the seeds that came from the parents.

The book said it would take around seven days for any visible changes, and every day the pots would be given the right amounts of water and sunlight. Even so, they documented their progress at the same times each day. The reference was outdated, and there might have been changes in the environment that could cause the flowers to bloom differently, or not bloom at all.

They eagerly awaited results by passing the time with different activities such as trying new recipes or mending tears in clothes. Sometimes they’d learn something new, such as weaving garlands and crowns from the flowers growing aplenty in their garden.

Link would sometimes catch her talking to the plants as she watered them. Her expression would soften as she encouraged them to grow, or there was yearning in her voice as she’d speak of her regrets. When it was his turn to tend to the plants, he’d wonder about how different life was a hundred years ago. The ache that came with emptiness ebbed away, replaced with hope and longing.

The fourth day was when changes were visible. The pair entered the study that groggy morning to water the plants and document the lack of change when their sleepiness was abruptly washed away by the little bit of green atop the earth. They rushed to observe the little plant placed neatly atop the table, and marveled at a sight that people of the past would have considered mundane.

Zelda’s eyes twinkled and Link gasped, her warm hands grasping his as they discovered a sprout shyly peeking out of the soil.

* * *

The months following the first successful cross-pollination experiment, and certainly not without a few hurdles to overcome, the study looked a little more vibrant. They had petals in different colors – chiefly pink, blue, orange, and yellow – organized neatly in different rows along the table. One flower had its petals shaped like hearts. The orange flower had petals shaped like the sparks of a flame.

Documenting the flowers manually was no easy task, but it was pleasant. Link enjoyed coloring his sketches with a variety of leads, blending different shades and smiling in amusement when it was accurate with what he saw. They were not as picturesque as the Slate would take, but with illustrations next to handwritten notes and charts detailing the appearances of the parent flowers, they helped track the research more efficiently.

His mind wandered back to the flower he recurrently saw in some of his dreams. The petals were purely white, with a shape akin to that of an eight-pointed star, although there was a layer of longer, narrower petals beneath. A few flecks of gold embellished the center.

Link absently sketched the flower at the back of his notebook, filled with little doodles, his thoughts and jokes, and notes to Zelda. He wanted to ask her how much she knew about the flower, or if she had ever seen it before, but his sentiment remained unwritten.

That night, he’d dreamt about it again. This time it was engraved in metal, as though it was a reward or a memento he’d keep, and he was showered with its petals as he was about to depart his home. He was brought through an endless field filled with those flowers, and he lay down sinking in them until he woke up.

* * *

Four new plants sat neatly in their pots: one with red, heart-shaped petals outlined with white and gathered in a round bunch, one deep blue flower whose short featherlike petals and seeds travelled freely with the wind, one that took the shape of a flame and faded from red to yellow, and one bred from a lily with large petals that had three vibrant colors cascading inwards.

As she tended to them, Zelda began talking to them with a mild hint of enthusiasm and familiarity, but eventually she quieted down, and gazed upon them in silence. Link sat beside her as she did so, and waited for her to speak. He turned his hand with his palm upwards, offering it to her, and she placed her hand in his. She continued to gaze at the flowers despondent.

“They’re not coming back,” she whispered to him as the flowers glowed radiantly under the sun. Their fingers intertwined as they clasped their hands together.

She didn’t have the chance to be around during their final moments, although it hurt for both of them the same. He’d been able to see them for the last time, and the Champions had given him their final blessings and messages, some to pass along to her. There were things they left unexpressed, unfinished, and it took them ages to fully understand that they weren’t coming back.

He had missed more people than he could remember – the friends who rained petals on him as he was about to leave, the people he frequented his meals with, the father he looked up to as a knight. He could not even remember their names. The only memento that could fill the gaping void in his mind was the flower that told the stories to him in his dreams. They could air out their grievances to the flowers all they liked, but only they could muster the determination to move forward.

“No, they’re not,” Link tightened his grasp on her hand. “We can only keep on living.”

Zelda smiled.

* * *

In time, the flowers were transferred to the garden, and no longer were their hearts filled with a dull ache upon seeing them. Instead there was love, joy, confidence, and strength that inspired them to keep on living. The flowers were starting to grow more abundantly, and soon they would be able to thrive in harsher environments.

Zelda stood amidst the garden, having finished tending to the plants. Link noticed her cradling something in her hands. She spread them and revealed a flower adorned with white petals – one that took the shape of an eight-pointed star with another layer of petals underneath. Beads of gold decorated the center. She planted a few alongside the flowers they had bred, and their little patch was next to the Silent Princesses she loved.

“This flower is rare,” she began, “and it was, even over a hundred years ago. I was worried that the Calamity wiped it out despite our efforts to preserve it. People would travel far and wide to find it, and getting one was enough as a reward for their daunt.”

Link remained silent.

“This was a gift – for those about to embark on a journey, or to those who have completed one. These were given to thank people for their bravery, or if they wanted to express that the receiver gave them courage. They grew most abundantly in your hometown, although very few knew, and your people have found it to be their most treasured possession.”

Her voice began to tremble as she placed the flower in his hands. “Thank you, Link. I want you to know that you have always been loved dearly.”

Tears blurred his vision. He did not ask where they came from, for all the memories flooded his mind as though it was a broken dam. All of a sudden he was a child again.

His family had kept one in their vase on the dinner table at home. He was showered with its petals by his friends each time he bested a warrior in his hometown. The first medal he had received had an engraving in its image. In his grief, he had sent the flower heads along with his sorrows afloat the river when they buried his mother and father. Several bunches filled his arms as folks waved him goodbye. He struggled to find his breath as he cradled the flower close to him and it burned his chest.

“I remember.” Each memory he recalled sent a prick to his heart, yet the more he ached, the more he was filled with warmth. His bedchambers at the castle housed a painting of the flower, a gift after being appointed as knight. Home. He missed them so dearly, and now he would never forget them. Live – he could only keep on living.

Zelda had not only given him flower tea with a blooming goldrop, she had also given him wrapped flowers. He had thought the act to be kind as they fondly reminded him of home. She was giving him goldrops a hundred years later, and along with them the memories he had yearned for ever since he woke up.

He gathered her warmly in his arms and she reciprocated his embrace. “I remember,” he repeated, at a loss for words as all the pieces connected together. The flowers around them were in full bloom.

“I’m glad.” She smiled into his shoulder, a mix of relief and sadness as she failed to stop her own tears.

* * *

Ages passed, and throughout the different seasons, the flowers stayed blossoming. The air had always carried the scent of flowers, and they would keep with them stories of life and loss.

Link and Zelda prepared dinner for two, and the vase of flowers on the table welcomed them home.

**Author's Note:**

> it's a mess. i'm a mess. it has been 2 years since i wrote anything. i have never been this wordy. tomorrow, i might dislike it and delete it. nevertheless, i am posting it and keeping it for a while. i'd love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> notes:
> 
> • talking to plants is therapeutic for both you and the plant as long as you're nice.  
> • blooming flower tea is tea with dried flower leaves and petals arranged in a bud so it "blooms" when it is submerged in water. it is quite lovely.  
> • i chose the name goldrop from a song by the doujin music circle felt (the circle whose songs i linked in the beginning note). otherwise i would have chosen a different name from scratch.
> 
> flower refs and meanings/why i chose them:  
> • goldrop - edelweiss - courage  
> • heart flower - hydrangea - close family ties, gratitude for being understood  
> • featherlike flower - dianthus - admiration. it disperses its seeds through the wind.  
> • lily flower - lily (desert lily, daylily) - motherliness, take a regal stance, embrace your own power  
> • iris - royalty, honor, wisdom, valor
> 
> i have equally silly names for the other flowers and more notes i couldn't include. if you're curious about those kinds of stuff you can ask me about them if you like on [tumblr](https://syllgy.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/syllgy), where i am more active


End file.
